


In the Vicinity of Love

by elaine



Series: In the Vicinity of Love [1]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-10
Updated: 1999-04-10
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:56:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: After rescuing Ray, Ben needs to deal with his own emotions.





	In the Vicinity of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
In  
the Vicinity of Love

# In the Vicinity of Love

Ray is here, in my apartment, in my bed. I look at him and still I can hardly believe it. I find myself continually drifting towards him. I reach out to touch his sleeping face only to draw back at the last minute. He needs this time to rest. And it seems that I need this time to come to terms with what I am feeling. 

I don't know what I am feeling. 

I'm not accustomed to being at such a loss. Incredibly, I find myself wishing my father would appear, the way he's got into the habit of doing lately. Usually I find it an annoying habit, but now that I want him he's nowhere around. Where is he when I really need advice? But then, he never was much good at giving advice on personal matters. Why should that have changed just because he's dead? 

This time, it appears, I'm on my own. So. Start at the beginning. 

Less than a week ago... 

The first moments are very clear in my mind, even though much of the last few days has become a blur. 

Ray. Calling from his cell phone to tell me Carver had escaped from prison. I could hear the fear he was trying to suppress. He was afraid of Carver, even though he'd outwitted him very neatly the last time. The prison authorities had called the Precinct because they'd found clues in Carver's cell indicating that he'd be coming after Ray. After both of us. And, possibly, Ray's family. 

The Vecchios were dispatched out of town immediately and we waited. It wasn't long before Carter made his move. It was Ray he really wanted, after all. This time he didn't even bother with me. 

Three days. Three days and three interminable nights, searching for clues to what had happened. Wondering what was happening to Ray. The Vecchios came back on the second day. It was difficult to face them. I felt that I'd failed them all. 

This morning we found him. 

Carver had taken him to an abandoned house and left him in the basement to die, slowly, of cold, thirst, whatever claimed him first. He'd been tied to the frame of an old iron bed and left naked, blindfolded and gagged. At first glance I thought he was dead. I hesitated, but his face turned towards the sound I made. I was at his side in a heartbeat, pulling free the blindfold and gag before attacking the ropes that held him spread-eagled on the bed. 

He managed a weak smile. Managed to croak "what took you so long?" as I cut through the ropes. Once he was free I pulled him up into my arms. He was icy cold. His clothes were lying in a pile on the floor, his coat at the bottom. It only took a moment to wrap him in it, then I picked him up into my arms and carried him back up the stairs. 

He's sleeping now. Washed, shaved, fed. His abraded wrists and ankles bandaged. He's sleeping in my bed. For the last two hours I've done nothing but watch Ray sleep. At times I've had to walk away as far as the window when the compulsion to touch him seems in danger of overpowering me. I stand there for a while, my arms folded across my chest, a habit I have when I'm upset. I don't stay there long. I'm constantly being drawn back to the bed by the need to assure myself that he is safe. What is wrong with me? 

Ray is my best friend. The best friend I've ever had. More than a friend. The danger is over. He is as safe as he's ever likely to be, yet I am still driven by the need to watch over him. I don't understand why I'm reacting this way. 

Finally I give in completely. I carry the armchair over to the bed and place it where I can watch him sleep. 

He's very pale. There are dark circles around his eyes. What must he have been thinking these last three days? Was he as sure that I'd find him as his words to me indicated? Or did he believe he was going to die there, blinded, cold, alone? Just the thought of that and I lean forward to touch him again. I manage to stop myself at the last moment. 

Lean back. Breathe deeply and slowly. Relax. 

My hands are shaking. 

Dief looks at me strangely. I don't know what to say to him. 

Suddenly I realise Ray is moving slightly, dreaming. I can see the rapid movement of his eyes beneath their lids. But not a dream, that is clear from his face. A nightmare. Dief responds even before I do. He jumps onto the bed and lies down next to Ray. It seems to be what Ray needs. He slides an arm over Dief's back and presses close to him without waking. Dief accepts this familiarity with a soft whine. 

A flash of hot jealousy stabs through me. Ridiculous. Ray is my friend, but he's Dief's friend too. Yet I want to be the one to comfort Ray. 

I find myself staring at Ray's hand as it lies on Dief's fur. He has beautiful hands, it was one of the first things I observed about him. Well, how could I not? He constantly gestures as he talks, sometimes I wonder whether he could talk at all if his hands were tied. 

That thought brings back the memory of him, in that basement. I need to touch him. 

Be careful... I trace the veins showing blue beneath the skin on the back of his hand. He doesn't stir. With that reassurance I stroke the back of his hand gently for a moment then cover it with my own. It feels good to hold Ray's hand like that. Protectively. Possessively. For the first time since Ray disappeared I can truly relax. 

Soon, I can hardly keep my eyes open. It's been three days since I really slept, but I don't want to sleep yet. I need to go on watching Ray. 

Perhaps I did sleep, briefly. I feel myself startle slightly. It's still light, I can't have slept for very long. Then I see that Ray's eyes are open. He has beautiful eyes too, but I see a kind of shyness in them I've never seen before. It's as if he wants something, but is afraid to ask for it. 

He smiles hesitantly and I curse myself for a fool. He's spent three days alone, waiting to die. Alone. I signal Dief to get off the bed and he complies with a scornful look as if to say "well you've finally figured it out". I stand and begin to take off my clothes. Normally I sleep in a pair of boxer shorts and undershirt, but when I slip under the covers I'm naked, as Ray is. It's not strictly necessary, I suppose. He's not hypothermic, after all. But the touch of warm skin against your body can be very reassuring. I try not to think about who needs the reassurance most. Ray, or me? 

Ray doesn't seem to mind as I gather him into my arms. He's asleep again in seconds. So am I. 

The light is starting to fade when I wake again. Ray is still sleeping, his head on my shoulder. His arms are around me, as mine are around him. I can feel the soft caress of his breath on my chest, the warmth of his body against my side. It's a very pleasant feeling, one I've experienced too few times in my life. The last time it was with Victoria. Here in this room. In this bed. 

That thought jolts me out of my drowsiness. It's not the same thing. Not at all. I loved Victoria. What I feel for Ray... well, of course I love him, but not the way I loved Victoria. 

I don't really want to think about that time, but I can't help myself. Memories of Victoria flood my mind. Making love with her here. Running after her, always running... at the zoo, chasing the car, the train... I did love her... Didn't I? Something inside me wonders how that desperate emotion I felt could possibly be described as love, but I push it away. Because of my love for Victoria I nearly lost everything that was important to me. I nearly ruined Ray's life. How could it not be love? 

I lie with Ray in my arms and think about love. What is love? I review all the words I've read about it and can't find anything that will tell me the answer. Perhaps love is different for each person. Perhaps I'm simply incapable of understanding what love is. This is not helping me, but once started, I can't stop the train of thought. It's a relief when I feel Ray stirring against me. Once he's properly awake he'll need to be cared for and then I can stop thinking. 

Only when Ray's movements become more definite and then stop, suddenly, does it occur to me that he might be shocked by what I've done. Two grown men lying naked together in very small bed. He doesn't say a word. The silence stretches taut as a strung wire between us. In the end I make the first move. I carefully slide away from him and push myself up onto one elbow to look down at him. 

He looks tired still. That's only to be expected. But there's a vulnerability about him that wasn't there before. Or perhaps he never let me see it. His eyes are huge in his drawn face, full of an uncertainty that tears at my soul. I reach down to touch his cheek. I think I said his name, but I'm not sure. Suddenly I'm not sure about a lot of things. 

His lips part as if to speak and I'm terrified of what he's going to say. Like a fool I act without thinking. I silence him with a kiss. When I release him, I'm convinced that I've only made things worse. I wait for him to curse me. To leave if he has the strength, or to tell me to go. Instead he reaches up to pull me back down for another kiss. 

This isn't like being with Victoria. It isn't anything like that... 

I'm lying in Ray's arms, being kissed by Ray and it's just... just Ray... easy and sweet and so right... I stop thinking and let myself feel for a while. This is Ray that I'm touching... Ray... with my lips and my hands... with my body, gently... This is Ray's breath in my mouth... Ray's hands lightly touching my skin... Ray's cock stirring so delightfully against my belly. I don't need anything more in my life than this... I'm here, now, with Ray. And it's perfect. 

He's sleeping again. I have time to think. That may not be a good thing. It never seems to do any good where my personal life's concerned. Is what I feel for Ray love? I'm not even sure what I do feel for Ray. Do men love other men? I don't know... I can hardly claim any experience in that area. 

It certainly doesn't feel anything like the way I felt about Victoria. So it can't be love. Can it? 

When my thoughts begin to repeat themselves, bringing no new answers, I give up in disgust. I will never understand love. Best just to leave it at that. 

Instead I let my mind go back to this morning. Standing outside the door of that old house. Knowing Ray was in there somewhere, in what state I couldn't guess. I'd insisted that I should go in alone. I knew, somehow, that Ray would not want anyone to see him. To my surprise, Lt Welsh had simply nodded and ordered the other officers back. Again, when I carried Ray out, he'd allowed me to bring him home, once the paramedics had checked him over. The lieutenant had even offered to call the Vecchios to explain what I'd done. 

Now that was a curious thing. Where were the Vecchios? They must know that I'd brought Ray here. Why hadn't any of them come to see him? Of course, they knew I'd be looking after him, but still... it was curious. 

I realise I'm becoming restless, and I don't want to wake Ray. I slide out of the bed and am just pulling on my jeans when there's a knock at the door. Hurriedly I pull a sweatshirt over my head and go to answer it. 

Mrs Vecchio. With her arms full of foil wrapped parcels and an anxious smile on her face. I take the parcels and she goes over to the bed to look at her son, while I make her a cup of tea. She joins me at the table and we sip the tea. 

The silence is awkward, to me at least. I tell her that Ray is going to be all right, that he just needs rest, quiet. I offer the words like a gift to her, not sure how it will be received. 

She smiles at me, assures me that she knows I'll take good care of him. Her warmth is unexpected. I need to say something more and come out with the first thing that enters my head. I start to ask why she hadn't come over sooner, then realise that my remark isn't very tactful and stop, confused. I'm not very good at this sort of thing. Personal things. 

She smiles again and pats my hand, but doesn't say anything. We finish the tea in silence. 

At the door she hesitates, then pats me again, on the cheek this time. She tells me how glad she is that Ray has such a good friend. There is a slight but distinct hesitation on that last word. The heat rises in my face. Is she really saying what I think she is? As I close the door behind her, I decide I must be mistaken. I hurry back towards the bed. I need to be with Ray again. 

He hardly stirs as I get under the covers with him and take him into my arms. He relaxes against me as though he's always slept with me this way. I try to sleep, but the scene with Mrs Vecchio keeps playing over and over against my closed eyelids. If she really thought we were lovers, her son and I, the things she had said, her waiting for hours before coming to see him, would all make sense. But how could she possibly believe that? Another thought intruded. If Welsh thought we were lovers, that would explain why he was willing to let me make the decisions about Ray this morning. 

I try to push the thoughts away, but they won't go. Like one of those pictures that can be either a candlestick or a pair of faces, once I see this possibility I can no longer ignore it. I try to be objective. I look at the question as if it had no personal significance at all. There is only one conclusion I can come to. I reject it. It's simply not possible. 

It doesn't do any good. I can't sleep with this kind of argument going on in my head and I can't accept the conclusions my mind keeps throwing up at me. I seriously consider getting out of bed again, so I won't disturb Ray, but I can't overcome my reluctance to leave him. 

Try another approach. Why does it disturb me so much that Ray's mother and superior office both seem to think we're lovers? It's not because of the social implications. I'm sure of that. Eventually I am faced with an unpalatable conclusion. I'm offended by their assigning to me an emotion about which I am so uncertain. 

Do I love Ray? Not as a friend, but as a lover? 

I don't know. 

So why did I kiss him? 

This is ridiculous. It can't possibly be true. How could I be the last person to know? Besides, I'm not sure myself of what I'm feeling, even now. I know I feel something. But what? I believed I loved Victoria, now I'm no longer certain even about that. Not since I kissed Ray. 

I'm beginning to feel exhausted. I don't think I'll ever be able to solve this riddle. A memory surfaces, a very old memory. Myself, aged five, saying those very same despairing words to my mother. I remember the advice she gave me then... if you don't know the answer, ask someone who does. 

Try to think... who can tell me the answer to this conundrum? Who knows me best? Ray, of course. But I can hardly ask him, can I? Someone who knows both Ray and me, then. Who? His mother. Lt Welsh. Oh dear... Perhaps I should ask Ray after all. Though I have a feeling I know what he'll say. Those kisses weren't all one-sided. Not by a long way. 

There's no one else to ask. Except... I look across the room to where Dief is lying. He stares back, a level, somewhat critical, gaze. I should have known better. I sigh and surrender. Everyone seems to think I love Ray. 

Ray stirs again in my arms and mumbles my name. His eyes open slowly and he smiles at me, looking sleepy and contented. A warm, unfamiliar pleasure spreads through me. Perhaps they're right. Perhaps I do love Ray. I can't honestly say that I don't... for now that will have to do. For now, it's close enough. 

 


End file.
